An Edward a Day
by ICMezzo
Summary: A compilation of flash fics featuring a series of different Edwards, different genres, and different pairings. Posted daily ish . Rated M to be safe.
1. Chapter 1: The Hunt

**An Edward a Day**

_A/N: I've had a terrible case of writer's block recently, so these ficlets/bits of flash fiction are my way of working through that. They're all very different. Each is about a thousand words and features Edward in some way. That's where the similarities end. They have different pairings, different ratings, different styles, different Edwards. (To be safe, consider everything rated M.) Some human, some vamp. A little of everything. I hope you enjoy. _

_I'll try to post every day or two. I know they're miniature. :)_

_Thanks to BeautifulFigment and ArcadianMaggie for prereading this first one, and TwilightMundi for betaing. _

_Stephenie Meyer owns everything you recognize._

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><p><strong>1. The Hunt<strong>

He's creepy, the man in the moon.

It's difficult to enjoy hunting when he's staring down at me. Watching me. Judging me.

It's actually rather rude. Off-putting.

He makes it hard to concentrate, feeling his eyes on me. It makes me uncomfortable, like the showers after gym class.

Hunting is, after all, an intimate activity. Sensual.

Which is why hunting together as a coven was all sorts of ridiculous.

Try explaining that to Esme.

_Oh, Edward, don't be silly. It's a bonding experience. It will strengthen our ties, and make us even more of a family._

I wanted to roll my eyes, but it would be dangerous even for a vampire, to take my eyes off my path, hurtling through the forest with Emmett at my side. He was relentless in his efforts to trip me.

Falling twice during a single outing would be unacceptable, even though the first time could hardly be considered my fault—the pit of mud _had _been covered by leaves and forest debris. This was of little comfort as I ran, however, what with the muck in my shoes squishing audibly through my toes with every step, and the man in the moon smirking at my misfortune.

Apparently going home to change wasn't an option.

_Oh, Edward, a little mud won't hurt you. Don't pout, darling. You'll see; hunting together will be a wonderful experience. You don't want to miss it._

But I did. I very, very much wanted exactly that.

I wondered at what point Esme would give up on her plans for family bonding via the hunt. It never went well.

Especially for me.

_Edward, darling, surely it was an accident that you were punched in the jaw. Twice. And then kicked in the stomach. You really must watch where you're going. Hunting can be dangerous._

As though it was my fault that Emmett succeeded—finally—in tripping me, yet doing so in such a way that momentum carried me forward and I took Rosalie to the ground, landing atop her in rather crude position.

Scrambling to my feet I tried to explain as I was subsequently thrashed by Rosalie. Nor would Emmett listen, though it was his fault to begin with. As if I wanted to lie on top of his mate. Asshole.

Thank God none of that actually hurt. But Rosalie did pull out a bit of my hair, and it's not like it'll grow back. That shit's permanent.

I just _knew_ the fucking moon told all of his little moon friends about that one.

And there was the time everyone thought I called Jasper "my dear", even though I'd very clearly been telling him that it was "_my_ deer" and he needed to back off. And no, Esme, in that case, sharing was not caring. That doe was mine.

_Oh Edward, it was just a bit of teasing, sweetie. Chin up!_

Needless to say, hunting with my family was not one of my favorite experiences, despite Esme's assurances to the contrary.

Alas, I'd promised Carlisle I'd join the family for one final group hunting expedition before giving up. After all, I'd do just about anything for a signed note from my doctor ensuring my absence from school the week prior to prom. An entire school of girls who thought of nothing but hairstyles and dresses and boys who spent study halls forming plans to get into their classmates' pants...

As a mind-reader, the annual event tended to nearly cost me my will to go on.

_Oh, Edward, don't be so dramatic. Put the lighter down and let the kids have their fun._

The damn moon man didn't know how lucky he was, only having to witness the stupidity of high school dances on those rare occasions when the lunar calendar intersected with that of the PTA.

At least this hunt would be over soon. We had school in the morning, and Alice would need time to repaint the nail she chipped on the antler of a large buck, our first prey of the evening, and one that barely qualified as an appetizer when split seven ways.

Of course, it was the damn appetizer's fault that I had sullied my shirt with droplets of blood. After 80 years of hunting, it was an unusual occurrence indeed. But when my siblings simultaneously envisioned Carlisle doing Esme while she was draped across the back of a polar bear—clearly a plot that had been hashed out in advance—I choked and sprayed the thick red liquid down my formerly pristine shirt.

It was the clapping penguins that sealed the deal. I'd have to thank Alice for that extra special touch.

Being a gentleman I refrained from sharing the details with our mother, of course.

_They tease you because they love you, darling.__Now come and give me a nice big Edward hug._

Oh Esme, if only you knew.

The scent of grizzly wafted through the air. Not my preference, of course, but as of late I'd engaged in a bit of stress-induced over-feeding. As Carlisle was wont to remind me, mountain lions didn't grow on trees. Grizzly it was.

Picking up my pace, I moved up to the front of our group, determined to get more than a sip from our next victim. In the lead during our final approach, I gracefully tackled the bear to the ground so my family members could join in the feast.

"Edward, thanks, man."

"Thanks, Edward!"

"Dude, you're the bomb."

"Oh, Edward, _darling, _thank you!"

One by one, they expressed their appreciation as they latched on.

Once everyone had done so, I surveyed the landscape in search of a vein that suited my discriminating tastes. Carlisle and Esme clustered at its neck, enjoying the jugular and carotid. Emmett and Rosalie also had superior territory, enjoying a little subclavian action. Jasper had found the posterior vena cava, and Alice, the pulmonary artery, locating them both near the animal's midsection.

Which only left me one option. _Son of a bitch._ I stared at the bear's ass.

_Oh, Edward, darling. The femoral is lovely, nice and sweet. Now, go on, have a sip._

I glared at her, then back at the animal.

Fuck it. I was thirsty.

I tried not to pay attention to the knotted fur and stray twigs adorning the rear of our prey. Closing my eyes, I sank my teeth into the business end of the bear.

Fucking hell.

I could hear the moon laughing all the way in Forks.


	2. Chapter 2: Theater

**An Edward a Day**

_A/N: Today I have a little vamp E/C for you. Hope you enjoy._

_Thanks to BeautifulFigment and ArcadianMaggie for prereading this one, and thanks to TwilightMundi for betaing. And thank you for reading, alerting, favoriting, reviewing, etc. _

_Stephenie Meyer owns everything you recognize._

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><p><strong>2. Theater<strong>

Edward watched, unashamed.

Carlisle stood beside his bed, the crisp white lines betraying its status as a mere prop in their endless play.

He was turned away from Edward, though certainly aware of his presence.

Edward observed the man's musculature flexing as he hung up a jacket, unbuttoned a shirt, loosened a belt. He watched as Carlisle peeled back the layers, one by one, that closeted his true nature, disarming himself now that he was once again in the privacy of home.

Each layer was one of a hundred steps they each took, protections they put in place. Controlled speed. Tamped strength. Speaking when spoken to, for Edward, and pretending to need a stethoscope, for Carlisle. And always dressing the part, even if Carlisle preferred fashions from prior centuries.

All very thin attempts to conceal their identity, to protect their story.

Watching as Carlisle removed his shirt, Edward studied the revealed muscles, the shadows as they shifted and spilled across the pale flesh of Carlisle's back as he placed the folded garment on his bureau.

Classically formed, molded by venom into perfection, Carlisle's body had come with a heavy price. Edward felt guilty for admiring it. The shoulders were not only witness to his physical strength, but inner fortitude as well. The angle of his neck both handsome and evidence of a man unafraid to stand tall.

His body displayed discipline. Control. But most of all he was good. Endlessly, wholly _good, _as though determined to atone for his new form through word and deed. Carlisle's heart was fast becoming Edward's own compass.

Brothers, they called themselves. It was the flimsiest disguise of all. Edward had no term for what they were to each other, but brothers they were not.

Edward's musings were interrupted when Carlisle's eyes flickered to him, a captivating flash of gold and black. Edward nodded once before Carlisle turned away, an unspoken acknowledgment of what was to come.

They had hovered at the edge of lust, stepped toward mates, then away, platonic, then closed in again on love, all without saying a word.

Carlisle placed his shoes neatly in his closet before returning to his place by the bed. Again, his was back was to Edward. It was only because Edward knew him so well that he noticed Carlisle hesitate when his hands moved to the waistline of his pants.

Edward was silent as the man unfastened the buttons with painstaking slowness despite his agile fingers. Finally loosened, the trousers fell from Carlisle's narrow waist, pooling at his ankles, revealing undergarments and more bare skin. His toned calves and thighs were masterfully formed and stole Edward's breath. When Carlisle stepped from his pants and bent to retrieve the garment from the floor, his sinews flexed with inhuman grace.

Staring was a luxury. Edward had caught a glimpse here and there, enough to know that something in him stirred in response to the other man's statuesque form. But he never studied Carlisle like this, never watched as the man disrobed purely for his enjoyment.

Vampires were designed to be beautiful.

But that's not why Edward stared. Not because of the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest, a learned habit that so beautifully highlighted the shifting planes. Not because of the elegant lines of his torso Edward's eyes longed to follow beyond the edge of his underclothing. Not even because of the curve of his lips, red, and nearly pouting, framed by a sharpened jaw and eyes sharper still.

No, Edward stared because this was Carlisle. Because admiration of the man's thoughts was turning into something much deeper. Because it had begun to feel absurd to hide anything from each other when _everything_ else was a lie, an elaborate game of make-believe.

Edward didn't know how to ask outright for what he wanted, couldn't quite describe this nebulous need to know more, to get closer, and to _have_ Carlisle.

So they had danced around attraction, had waltzed to the tune of _is this, could this possibly be?_

Carlisle locked his gaze with Edward's as he untied his undershorts, loosening them until the last of the lies, the remaining vestige of his role of physician, of human, of _brother,_ fell away.

Edward's lips parted as he strained to keep focus on Carlisle's face. He wanted, desperately, to look, to behold. But he didn't dare look away from the golden eyes trained on his.

Carlisle stepped closer. Then closer still. He reached out to run his thumb lightly along Edward's cheek. His eyes closed in response.

_Edward_, he thought, his thumb moving to trace Edward's bottom lip. _It will be hard, I think._

Edward nodded. Of course it would be. Little about their existence was easy.

_Harder still, _Carlisle corrected, guessing the direction of Edward's thoughts. _We'll have to be even more careful in the roles that we play. It will be easy to slip._

He paused to imagine a touch held too long, a tell-tale look, and a dozen other gestures that could spoil their story, indicate to the world that they were more, much more, than brothers.

He paused, cupping Edward's face in his hands. _Are you sure you want this?_

Edward nodded once.

_Then look at me,_ Carlisle thought. _Know me._

Carlisle stepped back as Edward opened his eyes, taking in the entirety of the vampire before him, inch by inch, learning the flesh of the one who took his life but gave him unending existence. And who was now offering him a future that Edward found he wanted. Badly.

Never taking his eyes off Carlisle, Edward rapidly worked the buttons on his own shirt free, overcome by the need to bare himself equally. Shouldering off his shirt, he tossed it onto the bed, while toeing his shoes and socks to the wayside. He unfastened his pants, stepping out of them too in short order. Only when he was stripped down to his undershorts did he give pause, but finding courage in Carlisle, he removed those as well.

It was almost a relief, as though disrobing allowed him to set aside the pretense of _human_ to be the vampire he truly was.

His skin felt alive. Carlisle's gaze traveled over his flesh as they stood before one another unadorned.

Carlisle reached out his hand to Edward. _Dance with me?_

Edward shook his head. He was tired of dancing, tired of careful, tired of pretense.

Instead, he grasped Carlisle's hand in his, and stepped into the man's tentative embrace, aware, so very, very aware of the absolute nothingness that was standing between them.

Guided by instinct, Edward tilted his head until their lips were close. Nothing in the way, nothing to stop them. So, so close.

Forever condensed into seconds as the two stood together, until Edward closed the gap, sealing the forever Carlisle's venom had previously set in motion. And in the press of their lips, they found the roles they were destined to play.


	3. Chapter 3: We Go Together

**An Edward a Day**

_A/N: This bit of fluffy fun involves Edward, Jasper, and the boys of summer. I hope you enjoy._

_Thanks to ArcadianMaggie for prereading and TwilightMundi for betaing._

_Stephenie Meyer owns everything you recognize._

_Thanks for reading._

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><p><strong>3. We go together<strong>

I went to my first Red Sox game when I was 6 years old.

By the time I was 9, I knew that I could never marry a Yankees fan. (At 14 I realized I wouldn't be marrying a woman, either.)

But at 25, sitting in the outfield grandstands of Fenway Park, I learned that you should never say never.

**xXxXx **

"No. No way. Never. You have _got_ to be kidding me. Absolutely not." I threw my hands in the air in mock outrage. I was mostly kidding.

Though Jasper and I had been study partners for a while, we had only recently started dating. He had surprised me with tickets to a Sox/Yankees game and I was sure I'd won the boyfriend lottery.

Little did I know he was a fan of the pinstripes.

"Nope. Absolutely not," I repeated, gaping at his navy and white jersey as he stood in the sea of red that was Kenmore Square. There was no way I was walking into Fenway Park with a Yankees fan_. _It was utter blasphemy.

Like all good Red Sox fans, I was hardcore. And my beloved Youk jersey was not going to sit next to his A-Rod jersey, even if Jasper was really cute.

And smart.

And liked baseball.

Damn it. I was totally gonna have to sit next to him.

"How can you live with yourself?" I shook my head sadly.

"You knew I was from New York," he grinned in response and grabbed my hand. "Come on, let's go. I think we both need a beer before the game."

**xXxXx**

One beer turned into several as the first pitch advanced to the sixth inning.

But as much as we engaged in the form of highly erotic foreplay termed "smack-talk," the score remained tied at two apiece. We even agreed to a friendly wager, whereby the loser had to turn over his jersey to the other until such time as the new owner saw fit to give it back.

Not that I had any use for a Yankees jersey, but I'd claim it proudly if it meant we got the W. I'd also enjoy the bragging rights, of course.

Unfortunately, Beckett's fastball was singled down the third base line about six seconds after I'd finished my latest anti-New York tirade.

Jasper just smirked, but I began rationalizing immediately. "See the thing is, when Beckett pitches from the stretch, he always—"

"Haaaaawt Dog! Getcha Hotdog Heeeeeeah! Haaaaawt dog!"

I was interrupted by the concession vendor as he made his way toward us toting a large metal warmer.

I rolled my eyes. "Who _eats_ those things? Why would someone pay $6.75 for a—"

"I'll take one!" Jasper piped up next to me.

I scrunched up my nose. "I'm starting to seriously question your taste," I informed him.

"I like you," he winked, handing over a few bills to the guy in exchange for his food.

I harrumphed, and studied the mustard-covered meat product as he raised it to his lips and... Oh God. For fuck's sake, his lips as he took the hotdog in his mouth were positively indecent. I stared as he licked them seductively, chasing a stray bit of mustard before opening wide and moaning as he took another bite.

"Jesus, Jasper!" I hissed, watching him suck some of the condiments off his thumb.

"Yes?" he asked, all feigned innocence and teasing and wide eyes.

Oh, he was gonna get it. I made it my personal mission then and there to make a very cute Yankees fan incredibly hard before he left Fenway Park. I had a good idea how.

I jogged into the concourse, familiar enough with the stadium to return quickly with my own ammunition: a gigantic soft serve ice cream cone.

I settled into my seat and began my show. I was subtle at first; a quick lick here, a little slurp there. When I noticed Jasper watching, I hummed my enjoyment—it really was quite delicious—and ramped up my game. After swirling my tongue around the tip of the cone, I parted my lips to suck the top into my mouth.

He narrowed his eyes when I dramatically licked the vanilla from my lips.

"Edward," he said, a warning in his voice.

"Jasper?" I continued to lick and slurp and suck along the ice cream. "Mmmm."

"Alright, that's it," he announced, snagging the cone from my hand, and immediately placing it upside down in the peanut-shells littering the stadium floor.

"Hey!" I started to protest, but was stopped in short order when Jasper pressed his lips to mine, kissing me firmly, deeply.

It was...

Sort of...

Well...

Absolutely disgusting.

I scrunched up my nose as Jasper frowned.

"Mustard," I said, the bold flavor from his lips still a shock to my tongue after the sweet vanilla I'd been eating.

"And ice cream," he nodded, cringing.

"They do _not _go together."

"Absolutely not," he agreed. "Almost as bad as..."

"Interleague play in national league ballparks?" I offered.

"Bunting during a no-no?" he grins.

"Yankees and Red Sox?" I laugh.

"Exactly," he confirmed.

"I have an idea," I announced, standing up. "Stay here. And clean that up!" I laughed, pointing at the ice cream cone melting away.

I quickly returned with two bottles of water.

"Drink up," I told him as I handed one to Jasper and uncapped my own. "I want to try that again. Without the condiments."

He took a swallow and made a show of gargling. I swatted him on the arm as he did so, and he very nearly spit it all over himself laughing.

Once he stopped choking, I made sure to kiss it all better. This time it was all Jasper on my tongue, and that was far more delicious. While his Yankee pride left a foul taste in my Sox-loving mouth, I had to admit the flavor of his lips was addicting.

Much to Jasper's chagrin, the Red Sox did win the game 3-2.

I had known they would, of course, as we were clearly the far superior team. I made sure to tell Jasper that several times on the way out of the stadium and back toward Kenmore as we weaved our way through the throngs of other jubilant fans.

I glared as we were held up by traffic, though, which made Jasper smile. "In a rush?"

"Absolutely," I informed him seriously. It had taken far fewer than nine innings for me to realize that, despite his questionable allegiances to pinstripes and overpriced tubular meat products, he was a keeper.

"Oh really?" he asked. "Why?"

"Because," I replied, giving him a peck on his surprised lips. "I'm taking you back to my place. Your jersey is now mine, and I'm going to need to get you out of it as soon as possible."

I laughed as his eyes glazed over a bit, and his mouth hung partway open.

"Don't worry," I grabbed his hand, and hauled him off to the subway. "You won't remember the game by the time I'm done with you."


	4. Chapter 4: Eternal Night

**An Edward a Day**

_A/N: Thanks for reading and reviewing these little chapters. It's interesting to see how everyone seems to have different favorites. I have a total of six planned at this time, so I'll keep posting throughout the next few days. This has been a helpful exercise for me, and has allowed me to find a writing rhythm again and begin to hear the voices of the different characters once more. So I appreciate your patience as I indulge a little bit and finish writing these short scenes/flashfics/ficlets/whatever you'd like to call them._

_This one is slash, rated M. Thanks to ArcadianMaggie for prereading and TwilightMundi for betaing. _

_Stephenie Meyer owns everything you recognize._

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><p><strong>4. Eternal night<strong>

Moonlight spills across the forest floor.

Silence fills the deep green-black wilderness of Mt. Rainier.

The two vampires move soundlessly through the underbrush, unnoticed. Nor does the wildlife open their eyes to catch a fleeting glimpse of pale luminescent flesh.

Still and quiet, the forest sleeps.

Two within will never wake; by the time the deer's senses alert her to danger, she's too late. With merciful speed and precision, the vampire is on her, ending her. Drinking her.

Her mate falls likewise, as the vampire's companion sups at the buck's throat.

Blood, slick and hot, warms the throats of the cold ones. Heats their bodies. Encourages the smoldering animal within.

One vampire raises golden eyes to peer at the other feasting alongside him. He releases his prey long enough to utter a name, low and hungry, steeped in bloodlust.

The other looks up.

Locking eyes, the two vampires appear frozen as the carcasses in their arms continue to spill blood onto the earth below.

The stillness is shattered when one of the vampires drops the deer and takes the other vampire to the ground in a flash of limbs and teeth and needy lips.

Hissing, he bites and sucks along the neck of the other, leaving trails of venom and blood along the pale flesh.

The other vampire pulls him to his chest, clawing at his back, arching off the ground in desperate want.

They tangle and move against each other, gasping and crying out through stained lips, their raw desire painting intimate designs in spilled blood along their shoulders, torsos, thighs.

Drawing a finger through a deep red pool, one of the vampires draws it to the other's mouth. Moaning, he suckles, biting slightly as it is withdrawn and replaced by a tongue thickly coated in sustenance.

The vampires move to feed from each other. Mouths and teeth scrape along eager blood-slicked hardness, eliciting breathless noises of furious desire as what is given is received.

Pulling away, one turns, moving fluidly, and bends, presses against the other. They join, coated in blood and lust and instinct. The vampire grasps at the other, pulling him close as he bucks against him.

He breathes the name, again, into the dark night air.

"Edward."

It carries through the forest, accompanied only by the grunts and hisses emerging from the mouth of the other until he erupts between them with a shuddering groan.

The vampire pauses to lap at the thick sticky release now coating the other's belly, but soon begins to move again, an animalistic growl emerging from his throat as he ruts against the body of the other. He is raw and brutal in his thrusting, the other clinging and grasping at his hardened flesh.

Moonlight filters through the canopy overhead. Rays of white light indiscriminately illuminate branches and rocks, ferns and death, and the cold, taut musculature of the vampires coupling against the earth.

The stars continue along their steady paths as a second cry of completion echoes through the sleeping forest.

The pair rest, pale and unmoving, lying against the mossy ground, the fallen deer at their sides.

It is silent once more.


	5. Chapter 5: Better to have loved

**An Edward a Day**

_A/N: Today's flashfic is E/J vamp angst. _

_Thanks to ArcadianMaggie for prereading and TwilightMundi for betaing. And thanks to you for reading and reviewing._

_Stephenie Meyer owns everything you recognize._

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><p><strong>5. Better to have loved<strong>

Loneliness.

It burns.

It burns my eyelids, my lungs, my stomach, the aching pit that no amount of blood can satisfy. Even that emptiness burns.

Three days of scorching flesh is nothing compared to year upon year ablaze with loneliness.

I've come to know well the burn of missing what I never had, the ache of missing who I've never known. Alive fifty years, alone forever, the world spins around me, cycling and moving through the seasons while I wait, unchanging.

Until I see him.

They enter with the wind on a warm September day. He is broad, blond summer, and she, small winter. But I barely see her at all.

Because the pain of _alone_ that has strangled my heart is replaced in that instant by a new kind of fire—a blaze that sweeps through me, decimating old growth to make room for the new, for _him._

But there is something else as well, a different color in the air. Foreign. I taste the emotion: confusion twisted up with passion and swaddled with guilt. The feelings aren't mine. I realize I'm reading them from the mind of the new one, the one who thinks in feelings and who also knows pain. The one who is likewise ablaze.

Our eyes meet.

A feminine gasp startles me. As I witness the small vampire's thoughts, I understand her worry.

She sees him twisted in my embrace against a backdrop of autumn leaves. Having found me, he has no choice. He will leave her; it is crystal clear in her mind.

"We have to go, Jasper, we have to go," she says, pulling his arm back toward the car, and my breath catches in my throat when I realize what she has seen is more than a stray concern on her part. It is my future, our lives. It is my truth she is trying to drive away in a bright blue convertible.

He breaks free from her grasp and walks purposefully across our front lawn instead, his eyes trained on me, ignoring my other family members along his path.

He stops short before me, and reaching out, he offers his hand. "I'm Jasper," he says, his voice deep and graveled, his mind rich and warm.

I take it, and can't seem to let go.

"Edward," I reply, giving him the traditional response instead of telling him who I really am—the one who has waited fifty years for him, the one who has wandered, unsettled, never knowing the reason was him—a blond man with scars who shone like the sun and smelled of summer.

"Jasper!" the small vampire cries behind him and more images—no, visions—filter through her mind. A covert touch. A kiss. A consummation. He will fall further and further from her grasp, all before the first snow falls.

"It can't be," she says, crumpling down to the grass. "It can't."

I hear my sister go to her, even though I cannot turn away from Jasper, my eyes studying the intricacies of his face.

"Edward," he murmurs, pained, though he does not turn around to watch the small vampire heaving in dry sobs on the ground. "Alice...I..."

She stands then, brushing off her knees, and steps back to her car, _their_ car. She holds her head high, determined to reason with the one she arrived with not three minutes prior. "Jasper, please, we can go away from here and everything will be as it was before. Nothing has to change."

She relives the promises he made to her, the forever they'd intended.

Pain floods his features. I hear the guilt that inundates his mind as it mixes and swirls with the horror he feels when he contemplates leaving me to fulfill those promises.

She aches as well, feeling the agonizing loss as her world cracks before her eyes. And her pain somehow becomes his, and the one I waited for is drowning in torment.

I cannot see him in such torture. I have to stop it. I need him happy the way I need blood; my existence depends on it.

He was hers and they were happy. She needs him, it is clear. She is not good at _alone._

But I am. God knows I've had enough practice. I ready myself for torture, prepare myself for the hell to come. Squaring my shoulders and setting my jaw, I avert my eyes, unable to meet his. "Go to her."

My words are cold.

I'm lucky I can force them from my lips at all. But I refuse to see him in such agony.

"But..." The words die on his lips.

"Go." I don't look up. I must set him free.

He hesitates, then slowly backs away, toward the car, toward Alice, to his promises and her dreams, to the life they had before she turned down our long stone driveway.

I turn away, choking and wrecked as the car backs quickly out of the driveway. Her whispered assurances echo across our property when she tells him that he made the right choice, the only choice, as the car merges onto the quiet road that will take him out of my reach.

The only thing to do is run. Because I know what's coming. And maybe, somehow, I can outrun it. Run so far, so fast, that the burn can't catch me.

I take off toward the sun, a poor replica of the one who stood before me for a fleeting minute, hand in mine. The one who showed me for just a moment what it was like not to be alone.


	6. Chapter 6: Crack

**An Edward a Day**

_A/N: Thanks to all of you who have been reading and reviewing through the last week as I published these six little ficlets. I know they've been short, but I kinda like some of them personally, and I hope you enjoyed one or two as well. This is the last one-for now. I'm not hitting the complete button because who knows when the urge to write another one (or six) might emerge. But, for the time being, I've gotten my writing mojo back and want to keep working on another much longer work in progress. Stay tuned!_

_This last one is vamp E/C, a pairing that is challenging for me...which is probably why I like writing it! I hope you enjoy. _

_Thanks to ArcadianMaggie for prereading and TwilightMundi for betaing. You girls are amazing to have turned these around for me so quickly all week long._

_Stephenie Meyer owns everything you recognize._

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><p><strong>6. Crack<strong>

Carlisle swirled his wine, the deep red liquid releasing its aroma as the liquid slipped up the sides of his glass before finding its way back down to the pool below.

To the average observer, the action might have seemed absentminded, and indeed, the chief of staff at the hospital never noticed that Carlisle's attention had wandered from their dinner conversation. The vampire was skilled at nodding his head at the right moments, even though his thoughts were far from the hospital's resigning board member, the merits of the latest production by the local opera company, and even the newest automobiles.

Instead, Carlisle focused on the spinning liquid in his hand, the revolving crimson whirlpool.

_Mesmerizing,_ he thought, staring at the scarlet waves. _If only it was a bit thicker, a bit saltier, a bit..._

Carlisle shattered the glass in his hand.

_A bit more alive._

– **o0o – **

Edward bucked up from the bed as Carlisle took him in his mouth, the heat and the caress of Carlisle's tongue nearly too much for the young vampire.

"Yes. God, yes." Edward cursed and moaned as Carlisle swallowed around him.

_Anything for you, _Carlisle thought._ Whatever you need, Edward, I need it too._

– **o0o – **

Carlisle and Edward ran through the forest as they tracked the mountain lion that had crossed their path.

Edward was faster and reached the animal first. He latched onto the animal's neck and began to feed.

A slight trickle of blood slipped from Edward's lips and ran into the ground below as the dying predator fought to free itself from the vampire's grasp.

Carlisle turned away, unable to watch.

Even when he himself fed now, he closed his eyes, unwilling to witness another death.

– **o0o – **

"Carlisle," Edward hissed. "I need you."

_Then you shall have me,_ Carlisle thought, pressing into the tightness of the one whose life he had taken. _Whatever you desire shall be yours._

Edward cried out at the onslaught of physical pleasure.

_It's the least I can do._ The thought escaped before Carlisle could pinch it back into the recesses of his brain.

"Carlisle," Edward groaned and tried to ignore Carlisle's thoughts.

– **o0o – **

"I cannot save this one," Carlisle said of the patient who lay unconscious before him. "He has lost too much...Please just keep him comfortable until the end."

He could smell the approach of death, and hurried to provide instructions to the nurse before him, desperate to escape the patient's bedside before he cracked. He was losing control and he had to get out of there.

_It's because I am a healer,_ he told himself as he paced in a deserted office. _No physician wants to acknowledge death. I simply feel bad that I couldn't save hi—the patient. Couldn't save the patient._

His eyes fell on the plaque that adorned the wall of the office. "_Primum non nocere_" it read.

Without thinking, Carlisle tore it from the wall and fell to his knees, grinding the engraved wood into shavings in his fist.

– **o0o – **

"Please," Edward begged, pressing his hands against the hardness in Carlisle's trousers. "Let me."

Carlisle turned away. _You don't have to do that._

"Please," Edward asked again, "I want to."

Carlisle swallowed. _No, Edward. Don't. Surely I deserve no such thing. _

– **o0o – **

Carlisle slipped into the darkened church after hours and knelt in the back pew.

The impossible weight of his guilt was heavy on his shoulders.

He wanted to _want_ to turn back time. But he didn't. Carlisle hated that he'd make the same choice over and over and over again. He'd take Edward's life every single time.

He didn't want God and he didn't want absolution. He was unworthy.

– **o0o – **

"Oh! Oh God," Edward clasped onto the shoulders of the man above him. "Yes. God, yes."

_It is my joy to pleasure you, _Carlisle thought as he stroked Edward's length._ I would give you everything. I need to— _

"Wait, stop," Edward groaned and pushed Carlisle off him. "I can't do this."

"What's wrong?" Carlisle asked.

Edward rolled away. "I can't stand that you only touch me out of guilt."

"It's not that," Carlisle protested.

"Then why won't you let me ever bring you pleasure?" Edward asked.

Carlisle remained silent, unwilling to discuss the idea.

"Only once you've forgiven yourself for saving my life," Edward said. "Then, I'll be yours again."

_I didn't save you, _Carlisle thought bitterly. _I killed you. I killed you, Edward._

Edward left the room.

– **o0o – **

Carlisle was losing his ability to function.

There had been an automobile accident near the hospital while Carlisle had been out walking during his appointed lunch hour.

"Someone get a doctor. Quickly!"

"Call the hospital! We need an ambulance."

"Hurry, this person needs help!"

"Sir, are you a doctor?"

Carlisle heard the voices and smelled the blood. He knew it was too late. The driver's heart had stopped beating at the time of impact.

Those who had been standing nearby would have sworn a man simply vanished from plain sight.

No one was around to see when the man stopped running several miles away, and began dry heaving in a deserted wheat field outside of the city.

He took a leave of absence from the hospital.

– **o0o –**

"I want to try."

Edward set down his novel and looked at Carlisle.

"I can't go on like this. It's destroying me." Carlisle said, anguish coloring his words. _Please help me._

"I know it is, and it hurts to watch. I don't know how you expect to save anyone else when you're in such a state," Edward said, standing and going to him.

Edward pulled him into an embrace. "I want to help you, I do. But Carlisle, I forgave you long ago, if indeed there was anything to forgive. And it's my life. I think it's time you accept my apology and forgive yourself."

Carlisle tensed in his arms. _I don't deserve—_

"Stop," Edward commanded, pulling back to force Carlisle to look him in the eye. "That's enough. Come with me."

Edward pulled Carlisle into their bedroom and stood in front of the large mirror that adorned one of the walls.

"I forgive you," Edward said firmly, watching as Carlisle's eyes darkened.

_But I—_

"I forgive you," Edward repeated, wrapping his arms around the other man's waist, and pressing his lips to Carlisle's shoulder, all the while keeping his eyes on Carlisle's as they met in the mirror.

_But, Edward—_

"I forgive you." Edward trailed his lips up Carlisle's neck and whispered the words into his ear.

Carlisle looked down. _But—_

"I forgive you," Edward said again after he'd tilted Carlisle's head back up and forced him to meet his gaze.

"I forgive you." Edward hugged the man tightly from behind. "I forgive you, and I love you."

Carlisle gasped and turned to Edward.

Edward raised an eyebrow. "Did you think I did not?"

_But I don't deserve—_

Edward kissed Carlisle firmly on the lips.

_But—_

"Stop. You must let it go. Carlisle, I forgive you," he said firmly as he ran his mouth down Carlisle's neck and nibbled on the flesh at the juncture to his shoulder.

"I forgive you." Edward pressed his lips to the hollow of Carlisle's throat. "I forgive you and I love you."

Carlisle sucked in air as Edward placed a dozen kisses along his cheeks and eyelids.

"I love you," Edward breathed as he started unbuttoning Carlisle's shirt.

"I forgive you." Edward moved to undo the man's zipper.

_But—_

"I love you and I forgive you." The words became Edward's mantra as he peeled off Carlisle's shirt and slid his pants down to his knees.

"I love you." He took Carlisle's length in his hand and began to stroke the hard flesh. "I forgive you."

Carlisle felt everything he knew to be true start to crack and splinter around him. He grasped desperately at Edward's shoulders as he sought to find a new truth.

"I love you." Kissing him deeply, Edward then got onto his knees before Carlisle. "So much."

"I forgive you." Edward took him in his mouth and Carlisle's world shattered.

– **o0o –**

Carlisle swirled his wine, the deep red liquid releasing its aroma as the liquid slipped up the sides of his glass before finding its way back down to the pool below.

The action might have seemed absentminded, and indeed, the hospital's president never noticed that Carlisle's attention had strayed from their lunchtime conversation regarding the upcoming dedication ceremony for the newest wing of the hospital.

Instead, Carlisle focused on the spinning liquid in his hand, the revolving crimson whirlpool.

_Mesmerizing,_ he thought, staring at the scarlet waves.

The color reminded him of Edward's cherry lips awaiting him at home. The shades of red and bronze evident in Edward's hair when they chanced a walk in the sun. The fever-flushed cheeks that had been bright against the hospital bed before Edward had died.

Carlisle looked at the wine, thankful he was alive.


End file.
